


Thrall

by Corisanna



Category: Bleach
Genre: Blood, Canon Related, Canonical Character Death, Complete, Dark, Dark Comedy, Gen, Horror, Implied necrophilia, Partial Mind Control, Psychological Drama, Shinigami/Zanpakuto Bond, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corisanna/pseuds/Corisanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Hitsugaya wakes to an existence he wishes was just a nightmare. [Spoilers for Bleach manga ch591.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kurgaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/gifts).



> A/N: This is for kurgaya/Oxidation. Conversing with her helped raise my confidence and eagerness to write again. Thank you so much.
> 
> This is my first time posting here so feel free to suggest tags. I'm not super familiar with them yet.
> 
> *****SPOILERS FOR BLEACH MANGA CHAPTER 591*****

x§x§x

When Tōshirō Hitsugaya awakens, his mind feels oddly muddled. His first instinct is to reach for Hyorinmaru in his mind like a child seeking assurance after a nightmare, something he has done fruitlessly far too often in recent days. He is relieved to find his dragon is with him once more, though he, too, feels dazed.

Eyes closed, he floats in a sort of mental vagueness that is not quite true consciousness. Memories come to him slowly. He remembers his botched fight with the fiery Quincy, though the memories are rushed and disjointed impressions of shouting and fire and ice. He remembers the twin bolts of fire that burned him from shoulder to hip and bisected Hyorinmaru-- no, the shell of Hyorinmaru, for Hyorinmaru was not truly with him. His memory goes a bit blurry there, floundering in despair. He thinks a scene is missing somehow. The distressing memory of his lieutenant staring sightlessly skyward is painfully clear among the confusion. He does remember laying on the ground and looking up at the Quincy who had stolen Hyorinmaru from him, remembers feeling his loss all the more keenly in his sense of loneliness in the face of imminent death. He had long since accepted the possibility-- near certainty-- of eventually falling in battle, but he had taken comfort in knowing his dragon would be with him on the icy plain in his soul until the very end. The theft of that security, of that deep companionship he had believed could never be severed, cut even deeper than the loss of his power to fight. He remembers being breathless with horror-grief-outrage when the Quincy donned Hyorinmaru's stolen splendor. He can't remember what the man had been saying-- he had been far too consumed by his despair at the injustice of a portion of his own soul being worn like a trophy, his crowning achievement being flaunted as spoils of war, the physical proof of the extent of his bond with Hyōrinmaru turned against him, _his_ wings shining as they bore up _someone else_ who had no right to them. Then he remembers his entire world narrowing down to an inky disc the size of his fingertip, remembers a distant passing thought of how odd it was that hope was so dark. He remembers feeling _something_ within his soul shift and change, the world abruptly coming into focus as his dragon's spirit began to flood back into him. He and Hyorinmaru had resonated with equal parts relieved joy and furious thirst for vengeance. That certain _something_ had latched onto their shared wrath, reshaping them into a warrior who was arguably more dragon than boy. He remembers the thrill of feeling whole again-- darker, perhaps, colder in a different way than usual, but wonderfully whole. Having known what it was to be divided from his other self, he had thought it didn't matter if they had to bear that mask forever as long as they could bear that mask _together_. He remembers the sense that his heart had taken flight, remembers striking down the thief who had so cruelly divided him, remembers the brief but fierce burst of pride that had followed. Then the clarity of his memories fades sharply. He remembers deep exhaustion, his power melting away like hoarfrost on a spring morning, vaguely wanting to help his lieutenant, and struggling to cling to consciousness.

Obviously, he must have failed. He does not know how long he has been unconscious. He does not know where he is. The creeping exhaustion has gone but his senses seem muffled. He does not feel pain from his wounds but his chest feels strange and much of his body feels cold. He assumes he has been healed and thus guesses he must be in a bed in the Fourth Division. But that feels wrong. Something about his surroundings is making his skin crawl. He wants to open his eyes to investigate but finds he can't. A vaguely concerned confusion gradually grips his heart. He addresses his dragon directly. _Hyōrinmaru, what happened to me?_

Hyōrinmaru does not answer immediately. His silence unnerves Tōshirō, makes him question the reality of his reunion, wonder if that was just a dream and he is actually still alo--

 _I am here. But I do not know what has happened to us._ The dragon projects unease.

Tōshirō, more alert, sifts through his recent memories again. _Could this be some side effect of the Hollowfication?_

He can feel Hyōrinmaru considering the idea, turning the thought around as though it is a piece he is not sure belongs to the puzzle before him. _I cannot be sure, but I do not think so._

They both fall silent, reverberating with forcefully suppressed distress.

An unknown time later, Tōshirō hears distant footsteps. A door slams open. The footsteps ring out sharply, accompanied by cheerful humming. He notes that his hearing has improved. He hears a quiet thump somewhere off to his right as something is set down, followed by some rustling. Cloth? The humming comes and goes inconsistently, but whenever it picks up again he can't help but focus on it more clearly than anything else he can hear. He feels like his body is restless to do something. He thinks he hears a zipper. It stops and he hears a quiet giggle and a sigh. There is a long pause. His anxiety builds. The quiet is broken by the staccato of multiple sets of footsteps approaching the room.

A brash feminine voice starts drawling before it gets to the doorway and becomes clearer. “Heyyy, Gigi, I knew you were eager to play with your toys, but I didn't think you'd get up quite this earl-- what the hell?!”

“Oh, my,” says another feminine voice, this one quite genteel.

There is a snort, followed by a third feminine voice, this one garbled as though speaking with a full mouth. “Don' tellm' ya s'pwised--” a gulp-- “that Gigi would do something like this.” This voice is younger and blatantly sardonic.

“Liltotto, don't talk with your mouth full,” chides the genteel voice.

“You're always saying that.”

 _So the bratty voice is named Liltotto_ , Tōshirō thinks. _What kind of name is that?_

The genteel voice lets out a little huff. “At least hold your hand in front of your face so we don't have to see it.”

A yawn. “Whatever.”

“Why are you bitching about Liltotto's bad manners _when Gigi is playing dress-up with a corpse?!_ ” screeches the brash voice.

Tōshirō thinks back to the humming and rustling cloth and giggling and suddenly feels sick. _What happened to me and why am I in the same room as a corpse?!_ He's definitely alert now. Wherever he is, he wants to get the hell away. He tries to move a hand, but fails. He tries to open his eyes, but all he can do is flutter his eyelashes a bit. No one notices.

A fourth voice pipes up. It comes from where he heard the humming. “Ah, Candy, you haven't taken the rollers out of your hair yet. You look so stupid.”

“Screw you, I-- Don't change the subject! What the hell are you doing?!”

The fourth voice-- Gigi?-- clicks her tongue. Tōshirō can hear the pout when she says, “Well, Bambi's clothes were charred, so I got a change of clothes from her room. She looks so good in white.” Gigi sighs dreamily.

“ _Will you stop making googly eyes at the fucking corpse!_ ”

Tōshirō redoubles his efforts to _move move move get the hell away from these people--_ ah, his fingers wiggle!

The genteel voice sighs. “Gigi, we have a lot to do today. It's near dawn. Don't you have more preparation to do before breakfast? Deployment won't be too long after that.”

Gigi's voice moans dramatically. “Haaa, I want to take my time. I'm no good at getting up so early in the morning. I'm not crazy like Candy.”

“ _ **Who's**_ _crazy?!”_

The genteel voice sighs again. “Really, it's too early in the morning to be so wild.”

There is a brief scuffle. “Dammit, Meninas, let me g--!”

Liltotto interrupts with a bland “Oy, Gigi, I think your other new toy is waking up.”

All sound draws to a halt. Tōshirō tenses. Dread grips his insides. He can feel their stares. His heart beats wildly.

“Oh?” Footsteps approach him from where the humming had been. He can hear someone's breath above him. “You can open your eyes, Captain.”

He is surprised to find that, yes, actually, he can. _How?_ He looks up at the girl who is leaning over him. Her face is particularly pale against her dark hair and dark eyes. She blinks and makes a ridiculous face at him.

“Ha! Good morning!” She draws back abruptly and singsongs, “Go ahead and sit up on the edge of the bed, Caaap-tain!”

Without really thinking about it, he pulls himself upright and around to sit on the edge of the bed. He blinks, wondering why he is cooperating with her. He looks to his right and sees his sheathed zanpakutou leaning against the wall by the head of the bed. He glances left at the other girls in the room-- three of them, one with lime green hair up in rollers and wearing pajamas, one with pink hair and dressed neatly in a skirted Sternritter uniform, and a short blond one wearing pajamas and gnawing on a large croissant. That's all he really notices of them before he finds his gaze drawn back to the girl with the dark hair-- Gigi? There is a bed and something behind her but he doesn't particularly care what it is. He finds it difficult to look away from her. But why should he want to look away from her? She is the most important person in the room.

Hyōrinmaru stirs restlessly within Tōshirō's inner world, deeply disturbed.

“Good morning, Mr. Captain! I'm Giselle! We're going to be good friends!”

 _Giselle_ , Tōshirō thinks. _Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle._

 _Master?_ Hyōrinmaru's voice is worried.

The short blond snorts. “Friends, she says.” This must be Lil...whatever.

Giselle ignores her and plows on. “We'll take good care of each other!”

Liltotto rolls her eyes. “Sure you will.”

Giselle briefly glares at Liltotto. “Here, let's start by taking those bandages off your chest. Lift up your arms.” Tōshirō blinks. That sounds harmless enough. He complies, raising his arms. Giselle darts over, bends and braces her hands on her knees, then reaches a hand out and pats his cheek. “What a good boy!” She hums cheerfully as she unravels the gauze.

_What are you **doing** , Master?!_

Tōshirō blinks, confused. He frowns for a moment.

“Giselle, why is he bandaged?” asks the pink-haired woman with a genteel voice-- Mini-something? He glances at her briefly before looking back to Giselle. “Didn't you heal him yourself?”

Liltotto pulls a new croissant out of a bag and interrupts with a bland, “You mean 'patched him up,' right?”

Meni-whatever ignores her. “And don't leave used bandages on the floor. It's unsanitary.”

Giselle plops on the bed across from Tōshirō's again, absently rolling the bandages. “I had the healers see to him. I used a lot of blood in the last couple days and he was a real fixer-upper.” She sticks out her lower lip and looks disgruntled. “Repairing him would have been tiring.” She looks at Tōshirō's chest critically. “Ah, they did a good job. I shouldn't have to patch that up in battle.” She stands and claps her hands. “Now~! That nasty black uniform of yours was shredded, so you need new clothes!” She reaches behind her on the bed and pulls out a stack of neatly folded clothing.

Tōshirō blinks and looks down at himself. The only thing he is wearing is a pair of baggy blue, papery pants. He vaguely remembers seeing something like that on some medical television show Inoue had watched when he stayed at her apartment during the Winter War. He can't remember what they are called. He can't remember how he came to be wearing them. He is supposed to be wearing something else.

Hyōrinmaru interrupts his thoughts, exasperated. _Master, really, that is not your biggest concern at the moment. You are getting distracted. You need to focus. I think you may have been drugged._

 _Drugged?_ It is difficult to wrap his head around the idea.

_Yes. You're not yourself. You need to resist it, Master!_

_Resist...?_ He is distracted by the outside world again.

Liltotto looks at Giselle out of the sides of her eyes, then glances at the bed behind her and raises her eyebrows. “Gonna play dress-up like with Bambi?”

“What? Ew, no.” Giselle recoils in disgust. “Do you really think I'm some kind of pervert?”

All three girls look at whatever is behind Giselle on the bed, then back at Giselle.

“Yeah, actually, we do,” deadpans the girl with her hair in rollers. Can-something? Not important.

Giselle huffs indignantly then abruptly switches to cheerful slyness. “Lil, don't you remember? Candy is the one who likes to play with our young subordinates--”

“ _I do not_ , you lying freak! Even if I did, this shrimp is way too young!”

Giselle just dips her head and bats her eyelashes coyly. “Ah, maybe if he makes it through the war in one piece-- or, well, mostly one piece-- I'll keep him as a pet until he's old enough for you to play with~! Ah, he has pretty eyes. He'll be a real looker when he grows up~!”

“Go to hell!”

 _Master,_ _ **why are you just sitting there?**_ Hyōrinmaru's voice is alarmed. Tōshirō dismisses his concern and doesn't bother to reply. _Master!_ He beats his wings in agitation, creating a gale on the ice plain in his frustration. _**Tōshirō Histugaya! Listen to me!**_

Tōshirō frowns again. This time it stays on his face. This is... wrong. Very wrong.

Meninas sighs. “Really, I meant it when I said it's too early to be this wild. You're wasting time. You three need to get ready for the day. And you take forever, Candy.”

Candy's head snaps toward Meninas. “Crap! I need to do my hair!”

“Yeah, because that's a critical element of your arsenal.” Liltotto's lips twitch into a sarcastic grin as she takes a bite of yet another croissant and chews.

Candy shouts a fierce “Screw you!” over her shoulder as she barrels out the door.

Liltotto crushes the empty pastry bag and smacks her lips. “Well, I'm going to get more food and get dressed. See you in a bit.”

“I'm going to get some breakfast, too,” says Meninas. “Are you going to come with us?”

Giselle stands. “Ahhh, yeah, I need to keep my strength up if I'm gonna be on the top of my game today! Just a second!” She sets the folded clothing on the bed next to Tōshirō. “O~kay~! Listen up! Here's what you're gonna do! One! Wait where you are until I leave! Two! Get dressed in these clothes. Three! You will sit quietly on this bed until I come back to give you new orders! Understood?”

Tōshirō blinks and jerkily nods his head yes.

“Giselle, you gave him clothes but you didn't give him any shoes,” says Meninas.

Giselle dramatically flounces over to the door. “Ah! Oh no! I knew I forgot something! I always forget things if I get up early in the morning!”

“So you should be allowed to sleep in?” drones Liltotto.

“Yes! Exactly! Hahaha!”

The door clicks shut. Their voices and footsteps recede into the distance. The room descends into silence.

_They're gone, now, Master. Fight it!_

Tōshirō finds that he is indeed thinking a bit more clearly now that the Quincies are gone. He stands and separates the stack of clothing. His hands are shaking. He removes his pants and pulls on the underwear. He scowls at the pants, but puts them on. Cold sweat rolls down from his temples and his breaths are shallow and rapid. He slowly picks up the shirt and draws it on one sleeve at a time. He does not zip it. His hands hang at his side, restless to continue their task, but he delays by force of will. _It's not that I am not getting dressed, I am just taking my time doing so. She didn't say how quickly I have to dress_ , he thinks. His hands relax. He looks down at his chest. The skin feels tight. A bold, shiny new scar runs from his left shoulder to his right hip, a sort of starburst of scarring spreading out from one point near his heart. He lifts shaking hands to brush his fingers across the scar. His vision whites out for a moment as he remembers the burning, remembers--

 _Master, snap out of it. You don't have time for this._ Tōshirō can hear the anxiety thrumming beneath Hyōrinmaru's terse order.

Tōshirō lets out the breath he had been holding with a gasp. He shoves aside the memories. He blinks down at his chest and notices something dark smeared on the skin over the right side of his collarbone. He frowns and forces a hand up to touch it. It flakes off at his touch, but there is no mistaking it: dried blood. Confused, he tries to scrape off as much as he can. He doesn't remember being wounded there. He remembers he had been bandaged and vaguely looks around for the bandages. He looks-- really looks-- down at the other bed in the room for the first time. His mind grinds to a halt.

The bloodied bandages are, indeed, sitting on the edge of the bed, sloppily wadded up. The main occupant of the bed, however, is a young woman. She is laying on her back, not exactly spreadeagled but with limbs casually away from her body. Her dark hair is splayed over the pillow, neatly combed. A Sternritter cap hangs askew from the bedpost, a somewhat ragged coat beside it. Two white boots are laying on their sides near her stocking-clad feet. She is clothed in a crisp white shirt and skirt. She looks like she has been carefully groomed and dressed, but her shirt's zipper has only been zipped enough to give her the barest of modesty, revealing her cleavage.

_[He thinks he hears a zipper. It stops and he hears a quiet giggle and a sigh.]_

Dread builds within him, a physical weight. Nothing looks particularly wrong with her body, so he finally looks at her face. His stomach rolls. The woman's face seems to have fallen slack from an expression of terror, the barest hint of the emotion left in the lines of her brow and her parted lips. Her eyes are open wide and staring blankly at the ceiling, glazed over.

_[“Will you stop making googly eyes at the fucking corpse!”]_

He swallows hard. His mind blanks for a moment.

_Master!_

Tōshirō blinks and finds his hands have zipped his shirt and are in the process of tucking it into his pants. He focuses hard and forces his hands to stop. Bile rises in his throat. _What did they do to me?!_

_I think they have given you something that makes you obedient. There is some sort of reishi residue on you. If it isn't a drug my guess would be something similar to kidō. It has faded somewhat since the Quincies left._

Mind whirling, Tōshirō focuses on his own energy and finally notices the residue. It is cloying, sticky, stagnant; this is what had been making his skin crawl. As he explores it, he loses control of his body once more. At first he startles and seizes control back, but then lets it go to observe what the residue is doing to him. His body sits and pulls on socks. Now that he is paying attention, he can feel the pulse and pattern of nudging, foreign suggestions emanating from the residue. He notes that the source is strongest near where he had scraped the dried blood off his chest. Had it really been blood? Had something been introduced into his bloodstream there and the wound healed?

His body sits upright, hands in a neutral position, and simply stares at the wall on the other side of the corpse.

Tōshirō gathers his wits. He concentrates on the desire to defy the orders and stand. His feet shift and scuff the ground but he can't get his body to stand. The frustration is maddening. He thinks. He had been able to stop and inspect his chest earlier when that wasn't in his orders. How had he...? Yes. By not directly disobeying the order. But what can he do while sitting quietly?

_Master, reach for my blade. I have been trying to push this residue away but having direct contact with my blade could let you channel my power more directly._

Why the hell did the Quincies leave him alone with his zanpakutou just sitting next to his bed?

_They believe you are subdued. Perhaps they do not think rebellion will be an issue._

Well, that's both encouraging and ominous.

Tōshirō scoots sideways on the bed. He reaches out and grasps Hyōrinmaru's blade. A shudder overtakes him as the dragon forcefully batters his reiatsu against the binding residue. Frost collects on the bed and wall.

 _Master, stand!_ Hyōrinmaru's roar is furious and proud. _Wield me! Strike down the enemies who would bind you this way!_

Tōshirō's face tightens with angry determination as he forces himself to his feet. His body wants to sit, but he quashes the impulse. He braces himself, feet apart, and draws Hyōrinmaru's blade from its sheath. He drops the sheath; he will need all his concentration and dexterity for this and he can always make a new one out of reishi later. The room is icing over. He turns to face the door. The first step is extremely difficult, but each after it is easier. He strides jerkily to the door and scrabbles at the knob. He manages to open the door. He tries to step into the hallway. His body balks at the defiance of the order to stay in the room. With extreme effort, he staggers into the hallway. His body won't move. Hyōrinmaru roars again and they raise their reiatsu together. It is like wading through molasses, but he can move.

He is nearly to the end of the hall when a pair of guards round the corner to investigate the reiatsu spike. Instinct helps Tōshirō successfully if gracelessly fell one of them with a single harsh blow. The other dodges and shouts something; Tōshirō is not sure what as he is using all of his concentration to move. He hears a jumble of running footsteps and looks past the guard to a more distant corner as the four Quincy girls from before careen around it and draw up short, wide-eyed in surprise. He sees Giselle ( _Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle_ ) and hesitates for a moment. Then he draws back his sword arm and slashes it down, hurling a shaky ice dragon construct down the hall with an inarticulate scream of rage, the thunder of Hyōrinmaru's supporting roar crashing in his head.

The guard doesn't move quickly enough. He is frozen and instantly shattered. The four female Quincy hold their ground. Candy lunges forward and meets the ice flow with a powerful bolt of lightning. The dragon shatters explosively. Tōshirō is struggling to attack again when Meninas darts down the hall with hirenkyaku and taps him with an open-palmed strike to the chest. He promptly flies backward, tumbling end over end and struggling to hold onto Hyōrinmaru. He crashes into a wall and spasms oddly, trying to make his body obey him. He clumsily gets to his feet just as the pink-haired woman walks up to him and shoves him back to the ground. Panic seizes his heart.

“Captain! No! Bad boy! Lay down!”

Tōshirō is overcome with despairing frustration when Giselle's pouty voice makes his body pause. He lays supine, but he clutches Hyōrinmaru desperately and weakly tries to stab up at Meninas. He knows he makes a pathetic sight. Shame burns within him.

Candy stands braced for another attack, breathing hard, face twisted with incredulous rage. “What the _fuck_ , Gigi?! Why the hell can he attack us?! How the fuck is he even out here?!”

Giselle minces her way across the field of ice shards. “Ahh, I told you I don't do well when I have to get up early,” she moans. “He's so small and was so out of it when I picked him up that I forgot-- he's a captain-class shinigami so I probably have to be really thorough to control him.” She pulls a face. “How bothersome.”

Meninas steps on the boy's wrist and frowns down at Tōshirō as he struggles to move. He has obvious difficulty when Giselle is speaking, but keeps breaking through it. “Really, Giselle, didn't you already bleed all over him? I've seen your zombies able to backtalk you but never one that could move against your orders.”

Tōshirō's eyes wildly dart between their faces. _Bleeding on me? Zombies? What?!_

Liltotto saunters up to the door and looks in. “Ah. Hey, dumbass, I think a lot of your blood came off with the bandages.” She opens a new pastry bag and starts gnawing on a scone.

Giselle perks up. “Whoops! That's easily fixed, though! Meninas, bring him back in the room, please~.”

Meninas rolls her eyes but grabs Tōshirō by the front of his shirt and hauls him back into the room.

 _NO! I have to get away!_ Tōshirō desperately tries to stab Meninas, tries to kick her knees out, tries to punch her face. All he actually does is maintain his death grip on Hyōrinmaru and flail a bit. The helplessness is infuriating. Hyōrinmaru rages in their inner world.

“Lay him on the bed, okay?”

Meninas tosses him onto the bed. He bounces awkwardly, unable to catch himself.

Giselle claps her hands once and prances over to them. “Well! Let's be really thorough this time, eh, Captain?” In a few swift movements, she has unzipped his shirt and pushed it aside, then leaned back to look at him, hands on her hips. Her face is alight with a satisfied sort of appraisal. Tōshirō's skin crawls.

Liltotto leans against the door jamb and drawls, “Hehhh, I thought you said you weren't going to play with him, Gigi.”

Giselle sneers at her briefly. “Excuse you. You know damn well what I'm doing.” She whirls back toward Tōshirō. “Let's see. I only put a bit on him last night since the healers needed room to work, but I have a blank canvas today.” She bends over and fishes a pocket knife out of her boot. She flicks it open and grins sadistically. “This should be easy.”

Tōshirō is thoroughly baffled when she slashes open one of her own palms. His confusion turns to disgust when she holds the freely bleeding gash over him and lets the blood pool on his bare chest. His breath hitches when he feels the reishi residue building up once more. Giselle sits next to him on the bed and hums cheerfully as she smears the gore over his skin. He gasps out a strangled cry just as the residue overwhelms all control he has over his body, his hand loosening it grip on Hyōrinmaru. _No no no no no, Hyōrinmaru, help me, what do I--_ He has trouble finishing the thought.

Within their inner world, Hyōrinmaru abruptly bellows in outrage and throws his considerable power into his blade and his shinigami's body. Ice explodes from the sword's guard and encompasses Tōshirō's hand to keep him from dropping his blade. The thin layer of blood on Tōshirō's chest begins to freeze.

Giselle snaps her hand back in surprise. The other girls are similarly taken aback.

Candy jeers, “What gives, Gigi? Can't control a little boy and his toy sword now?”

“Shut up, Candy. I told you, he's a captain class shinigami with a captain class zan-- oh. _Oh._ ” She clicks her tongue and wags a finger at the sword, ignoring the look of horror frozen on the boy's face. “You're a very rude sword. You need to learn how to share and play nice.”

In response, the icy reiatsu grows heavy with bloodlust and icicles stab out from the blade.

“Now, that wasn't very nice. Here, let me teach you!” Giselle simpers. She thrusts her hand forward, grabs the blade as close to the hilt as possible, and draws her hand down its sharp length as fast as she can. The entirety of its edge is left slick with her blood. “Now, Mr. Zanpakutou, you are not allowed to attack me or any other Quincy unless I tell you to do so. And I order you to break the ice freezing you to this shinigami's hand.”

There is a pause in which Tōshirō can feel his dragon draw to a horrified stop. Then he pitches and rolls, thrashing and shrieking and beating his wings in a desperate bid to escape the creeping reishi residue invading the once-pristine plain of ice. _No! I will protect him! No! I will not let this happen! He is mine, and we are free! You cannot have us, Quincy!_ For all his effort, the dragon is as effective as a canary breaking its wings instead of breaking out of a cage. The dragon realizes it. He bellows his despair. Tōshirō is heartsick. The ice on his hand crumbles. Terror sinks in.

Giselle claps again, not caring that she splashes blood on her clothes. “Good boy! Now, let's do this one more time to be sure!” She starts smearing blood over his chest again, up to his shoulders, heading toward his neck, humming a cheerful tune all the while. Tōshirō is absurdly reminded of Matsumoto dragging him to the beach with the SWA and insisting on applying his sunscreen. He clings to lucidity as his mind starts drifting. He is afraid that he will never truly come back to himself if he slips now. The reishi residue is so heavy, now, though, so...

Giselle ( _Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle_ ) sighs in satisfaction. “Right, now, while that dries--” She strikes out with her bloody hand, grabbing Tōshirō's throat. “I think I'd better give you very specific instructions this time around. We wouldn't want you to break the rules because they weren't clear, right?” She smiles coyly, then turns deadly serious. “You will not attack myself or any other Quincy with any of the offensive or defensive techniques you know unless I order you to. You will not attack yourself or provoke others into attacking you unless I tell you to. You will not speak to anyone but me. You will not obey orders from anyone but me. You will not stop to even _listen_ to anyone but me. You will obey all orders I give you without trying to think of a way around them. You will attack anyone I tell you to attack, even if you don't want to.” She eases her grip. “Do you understand?”

Tōshirō finds himself nodding. He understands far more than that.

Giselle sits up, abruptly cheerful again. “Good! Now, we're going to leave soon. Finish getting dressed. Wear the trench coat over in the corner. Prepare to deploy. Wait in this room for more orders.”

Tōshirō's body moves. He doesn't particularly pay attention to it this time around. All his senses are muddled once again. It is as if he is experiencing all sights and sounds from within the murky waters of some demented aquarium. He can scrabble at the glass all he wants but it won't change anything. Hyōrinmaru tries to say something to him, but he can't understand it. He is floating, but this time he drifts through crushing despair, helplessness, frustration, grief. He is disturbed by the low, keening moan of distress and self-loathing that should be Hyōrinmaru's strong voice. He is not sure how long he and his dragon drift in their shared anguish. His only comfort is that even if they have to bear this hell forever, they can at least bear this hell together.

A while later, the world snaps into focus again. Giselle ( _Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle_ ) is speaking near him. It is very important. He vaguely notices that Giselle is fussing over a slack-faced young woman standing across from him. She coos as she tucks the woman's coat closed, adjusts her hat and hair, and pats her cheek. He feels distantly revolted, but it's not very important. Giselle says something to the woman. The woman jerkily nods and goes still, glazed eyes staring blankly.

Giselle whirls around to address him. He listens very closely. “All right, Mr. Captain! I'm going to go play with my friends for a bit. You are going to hide yourself from everyone until I call for you. When I call for you, you will draw your blade and prepare to fight whoever I tell you to fight. Understand?”

He nods, his head lolling a bit. He can do that. He doesn't have anything else to do. Nothing is as important as making Giselle happy.

Hyōrinmaru's only comment is a low, eerie, mournful wail.

He follows Giselle's fights vaguely. He recognizes people. He keeps getting the impulse to help those people, but something within him always whispers that obeying Giselle is more important. He doesn't listen to what anyone is saying. Time is strangely fluid. He notices the fight change when the young man with bright hair rockets in from above. His chest feels tight. He wants to help this boy-- _Kuro... something_ \-- wants to _ask_ him for help, but he cannot move. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a dry gasp. When Giselle is felled by a beam of fire ( _he remembers the burning, remembers--_ ) hope makes him slightly more alert. Kuro—ah, yes, Kurosaki-- abruptly leaves. Tōshirō is crestfallen. But he is just a bit more focused now, a bit more able to follow what is happening. The fighting is chaotic and he can't force himself to pay attention to any fight Giselle is not involved with, but he is thinking clearly enough to feel overwhelming horror-grief-outrage and actively chafe at the reishi residue that binds him. Unfortunately, his improved awareness and futile struggle are only cause for more despair.

Then Giselle ( _Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle-Giselle_ ) calls his name.

x§x§x

To everyone in the outside world, Captain Hitsugaya's face is impassive as he steps forward _(is forced)_ to confront his allies.

Just beneath the surface and invisible to all, Tōshirō is screaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Version 1 / August 6, 2014


End file.
